<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>I Just Can't Sleep with the Taste of Mud! by The Reaplet (thesalsagamer396)</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23045749">I Just Can't Sleep with the Taste of Mud!</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesalsagamer396/pseuds/The%20Reaplet'>The Reaplet (thesalsagamer396)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Overwatch (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fluff, Gabriel Reyes being dramatic, I might expand this world later on, I'm really bad at summaries, It's kinda cheesy, Jack Morrison needs a nap, Jesse and Sombra don't really have a big role in the story, M/M, Mom Ana Amari, No Angst, cryptid Gabriel, mom senses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 16:15:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,484</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23045749</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesalsagamer396/pseuds/The%20Reaplet</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He wasn't sure what the correlation is, but Jack Morrison has been tasting mud for the past couple of months while not being able to sleep. He's been trying every sort of home remedy to help him sleep, but nothing really works. He just hopes he can find a solution soon. The taste will drive him mad before the lack of sleep does.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Minor or Background Relationship(s), Reaper | Gabriel Reyes/Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>55</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>I Just Can't Sleep with the Taste of Mud!</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hey look at me. I'm writing stuff again! Yaaaaaay.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Have you been taking your pills every night?”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“EVERY night, Jack?”</p><p>“Yes, <em> mom </em>.”</p><p>“What about the tea?”</p><p>“Not every night, but even on nights that I do, it doesn’t always help.”</p><p>“Jack!”</p><p>“I don’t like the taste, Ana!”</p><p>“Then add sweetener!”</p><p>“I’ve told you before, the sweetener makes it taste like mud!”</p><p>“How?! They are sealed packets! There is no way anyone could have tampered with them! There should be nothing wrong with them!”</p><p>“I’m telling you, it’s like someone swapped my packets for dirt packets!”</p><p>“How about I come over and give you a shot?”</p><p>“Ana, no...You remember how bad I reacted last time...”</p><p>“I’m just throwing ideas out there. There is only so much I can do. It may be time for you to see a real doctor instead of your old field medic friend.”</p><p>“Nooooooo, don’t say that.”</p><p>“I’ll refer you to a very nice doctor, and you will be going! If I hear from her that you skip out on meeting with her, you will be in so much trouble!”</p><p>“You’re the boss.”</p><p>“Of course I am. Now, turn down the thermostat and take your sleepy pills. Try to get some sleep.”</p><p>“Good night, Ana.”</p><p>“Good night, Jack.”</p><p>Jack Morrison hung up the phone and took a deep breath. It’s been a year since he finally retired from the Air Force and moved to Santa Fe, New Mexico. It wasn’t his first choice, but he’s been stationed in New Mexico for so long, he honestly couldn’t be bothered finding a new place to move to. Then he’d actually have to socialize with new people and wander the neighborhood to learn what’s where, and all of that is just too much of a hassle for someone leaving the military after over 20 years.</p><p>Well, at least he has Ana here.</p><p>He didn’t quite remember when they met exactly. They met somewhere in Egypt during the war during less than ideal circumstances. Next thing he knew, they were hanging out like they have been friends forever. Since then, they’ve been through Hell and back together.</p><p>And when she had her daughter, she had been mother henning Jack as well. Which is good, because that meant he could ask her about home remedies to cure what ails him, given her newfound mom knowledge. Which has worked every time.</p><p>Well...<em> almost </em> every time.</p><p>This time was different.</p><p>For the past couple of months, he had been unable to fall asleep. For the first week, Jack dismissed it as regular soldier insomnia or something similar. But that didn’t account for his other big symptom.</p><p>His mouth tasted like mud almost all the time.</p><p>He could correlate the taste of mud to his inability to sleep. He had some evidence to back it up. Like on nights where he didn’t have dinner, he was able to fall asleep. And whenever he ate out for dinner, he was also able to sleep. Therefore, he could only sleep if he doesn’t eat from his own home.</p><p>But that is where he was. At home. After making himself dinner and eating it. With a mouth tasting like mud. Sitting on his bed. Wide awake.</p><p>Maybe he should go for a walk. Clear his head and clean his mouth a little.</p><p>But he could almost sense Ana’s motherly disappointment already. It was just the worst feeling. He really felt bad for Fareeha since that’s what she has to deal with on a daily basis.</p><p>Well, if he can’t go outside, he’ll just stick his head out of his window. Like a puppy.</p><p>He already took his sleeping pill. He may as well open the window. He honestly couldn’t be bothered to leave his room and turn down the thermostat. Ana would understand.</p><p>Pushing the window open, Jack took a deep breath of the night time air. It was crisp and cold. Just what he needed. The night was perfect. Clear skies, minimal breeze, the song of crickets going along with the gentle guitar st--wait a moment...</p><p>The guitar was different.</p><p>Jack reached to his nightstand and pulled out a flashlight. Sticking his head back out the window, he turned on the light and looked around his property. He scanned the area until he found...was that a hat? Yeah, it had to be a hat.</p><p>A rather comically large black hat, but a hat nonetheless.</p><p>Large enough that whoever was wearing it didn’t seem to notice the light shining down on top of them.</p><p>Jack turned off the flashlight and closed the window.</p><p>There was a suspicious person outside his house playing a guitar. In the middle of the night.</p><p>The reasonable response would be to call the police. He really should. If not for backup so that he could confront this person safely.</p><p>But that would imply that a sleep deprived Jack Morrison has the patience and the common sense to do what’s rational.</p><p>He took a pistol out from the bottom shelf of his nightstand. He was in the military. He could handle one person.</p><p>Silently, he made his way downstairs toward the window below his room. He could see the coat of the person. Though it was also black, he could make out that there were designs lined with silver. Whoever it was, they were facing away from the window, so they weren’t looking in the house. Good. That makes it easier to get the jump on this guitar player.</p><p>It was a solid plan. Open the door quietly, sneak over to the person, and point his gun at them for interrogation. Scare them off, and maybe go back inside before Ana’s mom senses let her know he went out of the house to confront someone alone.</p><p>Except that when he turned the corner, no one was there.</p><p>Jack blinked several times. No, that couldn’t be right. The suspicious person should’ve been right there by the window! He had to make sure, but even a perimeter check ended fruitlessly. It was ridiculous! No one with a hat that large should be able to just disappear!</p><p>After double checking, he decided to shake it off and go back to bed. Whoever it was, it couldn’t be too much of an emergency if they were just playing the guitar. Probably just some wannabe Romeo practicing their serenading abilities for their sweetheart Juliet. And they seem to have run away. They probably heard Jack somehow and ran off before they could be caught.</p><p>The rest of the night was relatively quiet. No more guitar. And for once, he decided to try Ana’s tea. As much as he hated anything bitter, there was no way he was risking the taste of dirt that came with the sweeteners.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“Dios mio...Where is he?!”</p><p>“Pardon?”</p><p>“Gabriel! Where is he this time?!”</p><p>“Saw him dressed up before leavin’.”</p><p>“But there is no new girl with Bambi eyes in town! And he said no to all the girls I showed him!”</p><p>“Well he must’ve found someone he likes. He took la Plata with him.”</p><p>“Voy a matarlo...”</p><p>“Don’t be like that, darlin’. He ain’t been arrested yet.”</p><p>“One of these days. One of these days, I swear!”</p><p>“Relax, won’t you? Have a little faith. Maybe he finally found someone he’d like to settle down with.”</p><p>“I hope so. I hate it when he comes home all heartbroken.”</p><p>“You keep an eye on him. I’m gonna make sure Sally and Bobby are taken care of. They’ve been whinin’ something fierce lately.”</p><p>“Yeah yeah, go on, cowboy.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Another night, another attempt to sleep ending in very minor success. Maybe he should work the night-shift. He seems to have a lot better time sleeping during the day.</p><p>Still, the day is here, and things must be done. First stop is the market for groceries. Like clockwork, Ana had called him as he was picking out fish. She always seemed to know when he was choosing seafood.</p><p>“Hey, Jack. Are you still at the market?”</p><p>“Ana, why are you always calling me when I’m in the seafood isle?”</p><p>“It’s a gift. But, could you get me a couple dozen Roses? I’ll pay you back when you get here.”</p><p>“What? Now? What happened? Last minute dinner date?”</p><p>“Fareeha just wants roses. Any color will do. And red roses for me while they’re cheap.”</p><p>“So it is indeed a last minute dinner date.”</p><p>“Jack, Reinhardt is coming over. I’m not letting free flattery go to waste.”</p><p>Jack choked back a laugh. Ana and Reinhardt have been “taking it slow” recently. He wasn’t sure where she found him, but he was honestly glad for it. Reinhardt was a perfect shield during social gatherings that Ana forces him to attend. He was an amazing man that made sure you were comfortable. Jack gave him one more week before he shows up at Ana’s doorstep in a full tuxedo with a giant bouquet of flowers.</p><p>And it isn’t like Ana isn’t interested in him. She just loves being showered in compliments, and Reinhardt just loves to shower them on her. A perfect symbiotic relationship.</p><p>“I’m gonna tell him you said that.”</p><p>“Jack, yes or no?”</p><p>“Fine, I’ll save your budding relationship from yourself.”</p><p>“Yes yes, you’re a lifesaver.”</p><p>With that, she hung up. Jack chuckled to himself before finally getting to pick out his trout. He picked out a couple of bouquets and paid for his groceries.</p><p>With a few bags hanging off one arm and a bouquet in each hand, he made his way back to his home. He had a car, of course. But at two miles away and not a hill in sight, it seemed like a waste of gas to him. Plus, there was nothing to gain with being inactive with sleep issues. Whatever it took to get a good night’s sleep.</p><p>He had the suspicious person on his mind all morning. It was just so weird to him! Who in their right mind played guitar in the middle of the night in front of some stranger’s house? He could almost still hear the guitar being played. Like he was...</p><p>...right next to it...</p><p>There was a performer on his right. Someone dressed in black with silver skulls etched on the suit. A mariachi outfit. The guitar was almost silver in color. And the music...</p><p>How could he even begin to describe it?</p><p>It was like someone was pouring their heart into every note played. The way the strings were strummed held purpose and weight. The way the notes just flowed were like a love note for his ears. It just felt so personal and moving. A pure once in a lifetime experience that felt like it was meant for him and him alone.</p><p>It brought tears to his eyes.</p><p>Jack moved the bouquets to one hand and took a red rose out one. He didn’t have much money on him, but he had to show how much this music moved him. He tossed a rose to the collection box at the musician’s feet.</p><p>The playing stopped. The rose was picked up. And for several heartbeats, the world was silent. Like it was just the two of them on this plane of existence. Jack longed for the guitar to continue playing. Like he had done something wrong by offering a rose instead of money.</p><p>The guitarist looked up at Jack, and the world just stopped.</p><p>He was gorgeous! Big chocolate brown eyes locked on vibrant cornflower blue eyes. They were so warm and focused. The man’s face was scarred and storied, with perfectly kept facial hair to frame such soft and inviting lips. A face no one would really want to hide underneath the brim of a big black hat.</p><p>The man approached him slowly. Like Jack would run away if he walked too fast. He approached close enough that Jack could feel the other man’s breath.</p><p>The stranger softly kissed the rose like he was sealing a promise. He offered Jack the rose back. Suspended in a state of wonder, he took the rose, fingers brushing against the other’s.</p><p>The man hadn’t said a word, but it felt like he understood everything just from staring at the rose. He hadn’t actually completely understood, but that’s what it felt like.</p><p>When he looked back up to say something, the man was gone. Like smoke in the wind.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“Hey, Jesse?”</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“Where did the mules go?”</p><p>“Huh? They should be in their stables.”</p><p>“Well they aren’t there!”</p><p>“What do you mean they aren’t there?!”</p><p>“What do you think I mean?!”</p><p>“Mules don’t just go missing!”</p><p>“That’s what I’m saying!”</p><p>“Maybe the boss took them?”</p><p>“He hasn’t mentioned a girl!”</p><p>“Maybe he found a man.”</p><p>“Look, I have seen some long haired men here, and he has expressed no interest in them!”</p><p>“Give him some credit, won’t ya? Maybe he found the exception. Now just relax. We’ll ask him about the mules when he gets back. It ain’t like they do much lately.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Ana never seems to pay him exactly. She always tells him to keep the change. He wasn’t sure if this was because she was generous or if she was just being lazy. Might be both. One of these days, he’s going to figure out how much she gave him in change and pay her back in full. If only he actually didn’t need the money at the moment. Lack of sleep had forced him to stay home from work, which didn’t bode well for his paycheck.</p><p>Still, the day was shorter than most of them. He actually had yawned a few times. His mouth hadn’t tasted like mud all day. It was a nice change of pace.</p><p>The music outside was also a rather welcome surprise.</p><p>Jack opened the door to his home, letting the cool evening air into the house. And there he was again. His wannabe Romeo practicing his serenading abilities for his sweetheart Juliet. With two mules tied to his railing. He smiled.</p><p>“Are you waiting for an invitation?”</p><p>The man finished off the song he was playing with a flourish. He looked at Jack and returned his smile.</p><p>“Maybe I am.” His voice was so smooth and soothing. And so filled with affection, to boot.</p><p>“I don’t even know your name.”</p><p>“My name is Gabriel, hermoso. Do I get the privilege to know yours?”</p><p>“...Jack.”</p><p>“Jack...Such a bland name for such a beautiful man.”</p><p>“Yeah? Well it’s my name.”</p><p>“Would it be too forward to call you by something else?”</p><p>“Depends on what you propose to call me.”</p><p>“...Mine?”</p><p>Jack stumbled back and covered his mouth as he laughed.</p><p>“...Can I take that as a yes, hermoso?”</p><p>He composed himself and cleared his throat. “How about you come in and we can talk about it?”</p><p>The man -- er, Gabriel -- took a bow. A very dramatic bow. “It would be my honor.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>El Sombrerón is a cryptid of Latin American origin. He wears a big black hat and plays a silver guitar. He goes to the houses of women with long hair and big eyes and puts dirt in her food to keep her awake. He serenades the young woman, and if she accepts his advances, he ties his mules to a post outside her house and sings and dances for her.</p><p>Yeah I know El Sombrerón is of Guatemalan origin, but he is also part of Mexican culture as a sort of Boogeyman. Plus, Blizzard has confirmed very little, so I'm just gonna Head Canon that he's part Guatemalan.</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>